Art

We have made tin foil art inspired by Van Gogh's painting :Starry Night.Well mine looks absolutely nothing like it because I knew that I was too terrible at art.So I just did some random strokes and experimented with different techniques.This is the final product(It was really really easy).

The Start of my Writers Journal

The lights went out.Heartbeats fastened.Breathing quickened.The bunker shook and dust crumbled from the ceiling.Families clutched at each other.Faces white and alight with fear.A child was shrieking screaming calling for their mother and father.But there was nothing they could do.The bombing hadn’t stopped for hours.Sometimes it would stop and relief would start to seep through.But more violent shakes would crush any sense of hope.

Hours later the violence stopped.Families sobbing for lost ones.Their worlds would never quite be the same again.There would always be a fragment of their life lost amongst the burning flames.Nobody would ever quite forget the death and destruction.Tentatively the warden opened the door.Unlocking the many locks and hatches that spread over the door.

“A reminder that our town is still united”.The warden paused allowing the drama to spread.”Our town will carry on,and RISE from the dust,but it will never be the same.”The door opens and the warden ascends the grey,bleak concrete steps.Families clutching at their belongings.The long rise to freedom awaiting at the top.

Mars Homework

Bibi Descriptions

Nobody will stand in her way.Not even looming military tanks.Bibi,the little desert warrior.But her courage doesn’t quite match her I.Q..Sass is limited by her smarts. Her amount of mature remarks reflects her age.But age and maturity is no restriction for skill.Her private little skillbox full of dazzling tricks.Considerably larger than her siblings.But unluckily for her her country is sexist.Woman and football just doesn’t gell together.Just like any 9 yr old she is easily bribed.But one thing you could not bribe her on is leaving your side.As reluctant as a mule.Even if you were dying.She would be there, till the last moment, your last living breath.

The families around her are wary of her often sudden aggression. Sensitive as she is it is hard to strike a mature conversation. Her family soon grow tired of her constant immature and aggravating remarks. She does not always tune in to the right station and often sees the small minded,the narrow minded picture. It is hard to make friends as she is bullish and reckless,often making idiotic remarks repelling people from her presence. Her favourite quotes seem to come from corny detective shows.”Camel Snot!”Jamal, her sibling is a favourable allie and will aid her in her time of need. As reluctant as a mule,she would not leave you behind and is faithful to the very last moment. Loki,the god of mischief seems to follow her around and takes her to the most unusual places

The war stricken desert lies out beyond the horizon ,  thousands of miles of a barren wasteland.Bibi stares out upon it from the edge of her town.A dangerous and depressing place to be.Home sweet home for the children of Afghanistan.A dusty broken house,just like the rest of them lays door closed windows shut.Her family’s lovely home.The secret school down in the basement,sounds more glamorous than it really is.Kind and loving father,what a daring man.His oven in the basement is used everyday, baking bread of the highest quality.Passed down century after century a bejeweled candlestick lies on the counter dust atop.Most of her precious belongings are rusty or cracked in places.If you looked close enough in her parents eyes,you could see the scars and the hardship the never ending war had established over them.Suitcases lie in the corner.Suggesting maybe it was time to leave this place.This home,to find another.

(One more paragraph but it's disappeared)

Physical Portrait

Deep blue eyes suggest a life that was once glamorous.Not any more.A receding hairline disappoints him everytime he looks in the mirror.An ashtray lies beside him.Grizzled ashen gray face has more wrinkles that a recycled newspaper.His crooked nose reflects his career.The only relationships he ever has have been blown to pieces.So to many people this man was a mystery.An unsolved puzzle with a lost piece.The rotten porch creaks beneath his weight.Glamour had become a life of poverty.If you get close enough the stench of smoke becomes more detectable.Slathers of holes lay upon his clothes. Trousers ripped at the knee and scuffed at the bottom.The elastic is stretched as far as it can go.As the public walk by he sneers and makes unrepeatable hand gestures,repelling them even further.His misery is a disease.It infects the people that are close to him,until they are no more.The glory of war was too much for him.But the aftermath even more so.What a mystery.

Solo Hour In Nature

The things you can do on your own.The things you can feel ,see, hear and experience is amazing.Just like my amazing bark throwing off the top of the tower.I mean in slo mo it would have looked awesome.I also made some sick beats(if you could hear me or say that in person you would hear the heavy hint of sarcasm)with the playground tower and it's bars and planks.You have to hear it and see it to believe.I tried to write something and do something valuable with my time,but I couldn't write because the sun made the page too bright.I also couldn't draw...well because I suck at it.



                                                            (I wasn't on the tower at this very moment I was trying to write)